Page 70 of Mistletoe All the Way

Fireworks burst in my chest. “Yes!”

21 HARRIET THE HOLIDAY SPY

Eloise

A little later, I’m driving Grandma’s zippy electric car. Noah’s wearing a hat and a Santa beard, and I’m decked out in a Mrs. Claus wig and horn-rimmed glasses. Good thing the Mistletoe Emporium opened early—Ahsha was super helpful and found the disguises right away, though we told her they were for a party.

“You’re going to make quite a couple,” she said as she checked us out. “I want pics.”

“And you’ll get them,” I promised.

“Maybe we could even have the Cowboy Vet model the beard on our store’s social,” she added hopefully.

Noah growled at that, but I set a hand on his arm—a subtle reminder to shut up.

Now, as we wind through a quiet road toward the edge of town, Noah grumbles, “If you take a photo of me, you’re dead to me.”

I smile. “I know. But it would make really good blackmail someday when you’re famous, so I might chance it.”

He grumbles again. “Eloise.”

And does it sound outrageously sexy, the way he says my name, all rumbly and raspy? Yes. Yes, it does.

He points me down side streets, and we park a block away from Stephen’s condo. Maybe he’ll go see the lawyers this morning. Or try to take more pics. You never know. Plus, we can plan for the second competition while we wait.

I cut the engine. “Do you really think taking those photos means he’ll sell the horses?” I ask, wishing there were another answer.

Noah turns to me, that rough edge in him softening. “I doubt it’s because he wants to hang their pictures in the bar. They’re all getting older too. But it just seems… wrong.”

My heart squeezes. “You want to take care of them all?”

He nods, his voice gentler. “I do. I actually think…” He pauses, furrows his brow, then, like he’s testing out new words, he says, “I want to turn the farm into an animal sanctuary. In addition to the sleigh rides. Those always made my gramps happy—spreading the holiday spirit, he’s said. But I’d get some new horses for the rides. Maybe ones that need a good home, maybe from a rescue. I’d keep Priya on as the stable manager, since she does such a good job. But I’d also hire a good trainer, work with them on the sleigh rides, and let the older horses just hang out. It could be a home for other farm animals too. Llamas, goats—there are so many around here that need a quiet place to live out their sunset years. Since we have all this unused space most of the year, kids could come visit, and it could be a destination in Evergreen Falls. Not just hayrides and grad photos and sleigh rides, but a sanctuary year-round.”

My heart swells. It aches, in the best way. “That’s lovely,” I say quietly.

“You think so?”

I nod. “I really do. I can picture it. How long have you been planning that?”

He scratches his jaw. “Honestly? Only since the day before Thanksgiving, when Gramps announced his retirement plans. It got me thinking, and then I could see it all.” He hesitates, then seems to roll the dice. “I haven’t told that to anyone.”

I sit up straighter in the driver’s seat. “Really? Not even your grandfather?”

He shakes his head. “No. I need to. I’ll do it soon, but it sort of hit me all at once,” he says, and the gruffness is gone, replaced by a surprisingly tender and vulnerable tone. “That farm is where I fell in love with animals. But it can’t just be when they’re shiny and young and fun. They deserve a soft landing. And what if I could make that happen? Besides, my mom would have wanted that.”

My throat tightens, but I try not to cry. It feels like it’s not my place to, even though it’s a wonderful sentiment he shared. “I love that it sort of hit you all at once.”

“Like waking up,” he says. “You blink, and sleep is still tugging you, dreams feel real, but then all at once you’re up. That’s how it felt to me.”

And a new question pulses in the air between us, in the distance between us. One I have to ask, because I need to know. I try to sound easygoing, “Are you moving here?”

Shaking his head, he drags a hand through his hair. “No. I have a practice in Colorado. Patients to take care of. But I think I could hire some good people in Evergreen Falls, don’t you think? And hey, I could hire you to do the PR.”

And my heart sinks. Stupidly. Annoyingly.

For a few minutes, I’d let myself believe in an unexpected and lovely new possibility. But I need to remember—we’re just partners in planning, that’s all. We’re not having a romance. And I definitely don’t have time for one either. Not when I have my business that needs so much focus, and a life of my own here in town.

“Sure, that makes sense,” I say. And I’m not disappointed. I swear I’m not. We have a competition to focus on. He has a legacy to protect. I have a job opportunity to try to win. “And I’d love to do the PR for it, of course.”